There’s a twinkle in her eye
In her home above the sky.
She has shed her house of clay
And has thrown the clod away.
Though it bound and held her fast,
She is freed from it at last,
And the Florence we once knew
Is alive beyond the blue.
There’s a spring now in her step.
She has humor, life, and pep.
By the earth no more confined,
No confusion clouds her mind.
Nothing’s there to cramp her style
Or to check her charming smile.
She is Florence through and through,
But with vim and vigor new.
We can bear our present pain
For the joy of Poppy’s gain,
For the life she hid with Christ
Now is hers, and amply spiced.
Things she once by faith believed
She has now in fact received.
What a glorious gift of grace!—
She beholds the Savior’s face.